When I die, I hope none of you pretend you cared.
When I do die,
When my own hands seal that goodbye,
Don’t act like you don’t know why.
Don’t you dare imply that it might have been a bad high,
Or that my dreams were impossible,
And that I was flying too high.
And don't you dare say 'I needed help';
No, I needed a way out of this ****,
A better life than this constant retreat into a shell.
I gave you visions for the future.
Grave expressions, co-authored by the truth;
I aimed for your soul like a range target from a booth.
You may not see it, but I do;
The gap between what is, and what could be,
Like comparing a gas lamp with a radiant star’s energy.
It eats up my happiness from inside,
Like a parasite stretching my intestines wide.
Many of you don’t ******* care, in actuality –
Some of you just want the fame, in reality,
To get your tasteless name ahead in a winner less game.
You wouldn’t understand revolution if it sat on your face,
****, you wouldn’t if you slept with it, reproduced,
And created a whole new pseudo-race.
We’re so far up our own *****,
We could basically regurgitate ourselves –
I’m just the guy giving you reality,
Getting the truth off those dusty shelves.
Don’t act like you knew me if you really didn’t;
You chose to turn away, when I wanted you to see right through me.
Don’t think of the good times we had;
Think of all the nights spent discussing the sad and the mad,
The broken and the beaten,
The stolen lives and the reasons we misbehave,
Like a heathen in the Garden of Eden.
That’s what I would want you to think about.
And before you cry and mourn,
Think about why, and learn.
Or, just move on, after I’m gone.
I won’t ******* care either way,
Just as long as I can stay away –
So this darkness can cease,
And my soul can see the light of day.
Just being real here...